


Night Reflections

by elaine



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-04-22
Updated: 1999-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 13:50:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14403462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elaine/pseuds/elaine
Summary: Turnbull reflects on a comment made by Inspector Thatcher.





	Night Reflections

 

 

Once again his fingers closed around the aching length of his shaft and pumped it with a furious determination. It made little difference. He really shouldn't be doing this, pursuing a meaningless, indifferent release. Not that he had anything against masturbation; over the years he'd learnt to pleasure himself, or to give himself a purely physical relief and had seen no wrong in it. But what he craved now was sensation, not for pleasure or need, but to distract himself from his hurtful thoughts and memories. And it wasn't even working.

Was he truly so unlovable? He'd never thought so before today, had never thought he was so different from all others that nobody could ever love him. Yet he now knew that others, or one person at least, thought him so. And if she did, and after thinking about it he had been forced to conclude Fraser did as well, then perhaps everyone else did too. Sometimes she could be unkind, in an irritable way, but that was her nature. He'd long ago accepted that and learned to allow for those moments. But today she hadn't been angry, only curious. Perhaps that was why it had hurt so much.

With a groan of frustration he twisted onto his belly and began thrusting into the disordered sheet and lumpy mattress. The smooth cotton felt rough against his painfully overstimulated glans, but he persisted. If he could only finish this… otherwise he was in for a sleepless night at best. His fingers clenched on the pillow and he buried his face in it to muffle his ragged breathing. The walls in this building were so thin that he knew far more about his neighbours than he really wanted to. He would prefer to keep some privacy for himself.

He hadn't meant to do any harm by his comment. He could hardly have avoided noticing the young couple… the girl's pretty blond hair, the boy's rich chocolate coloured skin. They were so obviously in love, unable to keep from touching each other, holding hands and kissing. He'd felt like that once, though his love had gone unrequited, unnoticed even… which was to be expected, he supposed, when it was another boy he'd fallen in love with. Even so, he remembered that summer as one of the sweetest he'd ever known. Now his memories of it were tarnished by the fear that, even if he had been able to admit to his love, it would still have not been returned.

There had been lovers, he was no virgin despite what some people might think, but they had hardly been satisfactory relationships. He'd always hoped for more. Had even, recently, begun to think that perhaps… but now that dream was shattered. Because if Thatcher and Fraser, who knew him better than anyone in Chicago, saw him as such a hopeless case, then why should Ray be any different?

The bed had begun to creak from the violence of his thrusts and he forced himself to stop and roll onto his back again. He should give up. But his body would not allow it now. Unbidden, his hands crept down, one taking his penis in a punishing grip, the other squeezing his balls. The shaft felt raw from his rubbing, and the glans burned painfully. Not even the pre cum leaking from the slit was lubricant enough to ease it. He moaned softly, then bit his lip. He'd already made too much noise.

It was almost too much to endure. The day that had started out with so much hope was ending in humiliation and despair. Had he really hoped that Ray could care for him? It had seemed possible when Ray had asked him to go to the movies. Why else would he have asked? If it had just been Fraser… everybody knew they were friends. There was no need, no reason, to invite him. And then Ray had invited Thatcher too.

He knew Ray didn't particularly care for her, so it had seemed obvious that she was there to distract Fraser. If that was the plan, it had worked. Ray had sat between him and Thatcher, with Fraser on her other side, almost like a double date. And as they left the theatre, Fraser and Thatcher had gone ahead while he and Ray followed behind. It had been perfect. Until he'd made that remark about young love and Thatcher had looked at him disbelievingly and asked him how would he know?

Even then he hadn't felt it. As with the first sharp cut of a knife, there had been a moment of disbelief before he felt the actual pain. By then the others were all intent on the kidnapping and what followed. Nobody thought of him, and that was just as well. He'd left as soon as he possibly could.

Determined to end what had long ago ceased to be even physically pleasurable, he drew his legs up and thrust three fingers into himself with no preparation, no lubricant. The sharp pain almost made him cry out, but it rapidly dulled, becoming just another sensation, meaningless, like the rest of his pain. He probed for his prostate and massaged it. Somehow he would bring this to a close.

Finally it worked. The muscles contracted around his fingers and his cock pulsed agonisingly, sending out a scalding gush of sticky fluid. He held his breath as the spasms gradually weakened, then relaxed into the mattress with a sigh of relief, glad only that it was over.

It was several minutes before his heartbeat began to slow and his breathing returned to normal. Longer before he had the strength to move. When it returned he forced himself to get out of the bed and go to the washbasin which was all that the apartment offered in the way of a bathroom. He wiped himself down with a damp cloth, ignoring the twinges of discomfort from his cock, and scrubbed his hands thoroughly so that not a trace of his activities remained.

Back in the bed, he lay perfectly still, his hands folded across his chest. He'd achieved a physical release, but it had bought him no more than a few moments of respite from the real pain. He'd been wrong to hope. Ray didn't love him, would never love him. Whatever impulse had led him to invite a lonely Mountie to a movie, it had been out of kindness, nothing more. The way he might be kind to a stray animal, or an old person. Ray had a kind heart, that was all. He would not cry.

He felt something hot and wet slide out of the corner of his eye and run down his temple into his hair. He closed his eyes tightly. He would not cry.

 


End file.
